Here We Go Again...

Ow. Ow. Ow. Everything hurts. I think I might be dying. My stomach is clenched and churning – am I ravenously hungry or do I feel sick? Waves of nausea wash over my entire body every time I move. My muscles ache. It’s too hot. I can feel last night’s mascara sticking to my face.

Sound familiar?

We’ve all been there. That dreaded morning where you wake up and forget, for that split second, just how many Jagerbombs you necked the night before. Whatever music played while you gulped down however many shots before hitting the dance floor - sometimes quite literally - is a very loud blur.

I can be useless at hangovers. I often use them as an excuse to curl up in a ball and feel sorry for myself all day. I will not move, even if all I’m feeling is a little tired and groggy.

The thing I hate most about being hungover, (apart from the dread in your already sick stomach when you check your online banking transactions), beyond all that, I hate how much you feel like you need to brush your teeth. Forget two times a day, I want to brush constantly to get that sticky lemonade taste out of my mouth.

What's great is when you don't feel half as bad as you should - that's when you can reminisce on the worst hangovers you've ever had, and thank your lucky stars that this is not one of those times. You can just about move your muscles to the nearest McDonald's, speeding along the recovery process with a cheesy film and an early night.

There is always one time that springs to mind as my worst hangover. Over-riding the night of Tabasco shots, and my birthday tequila shots. No, no, this one took place in first year, either after the 90s party on campus, or in someone's flat. Who knows. All I can remember is how I felt the next day.

I woke up at 2pm and spent the rest of the afternoon feeling a lot more than just a little tired. I felt dead. Or like I was about to be dead.

All I wanted to do was sit in bed and eat a tin of sweetcorn, (the weirdest hangover craving yet - usually I'd stick to a Chinese takeaway.)

But no, for some reason I had decided that sweetcorn was the way to go. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had a golden tin waiting for me in the kitchen as I lay in my room still as possible, trying not to hurl.

It took a couple of hours for me to drag myself out of bed in my sticky-haired state and last night’s dress, but I slowly got up and grabbed my refreshingly cold sweetcorn tin from the fridge.

Back in bed with my laptop on,  I typed in 'Amazon Prime Video’ and settled down with my corn.  Perfect. There I was with my little bowl of glowing yellow mush, feeling like I’d  never needed something more. Soon I would be cured, I thought.

One teaspoon sized mouthful.

Ouch.

Another teaspoon sized mouthful.

BLEHK!

That’s right. I had to throw myself out of bed, face first into the toilet because my stupid body got me in such a state that I couldn’t stomach two measly mouthfuls of sweetcorn.

It took me a grand total of five hours to finish the bowl and eventually keep it down - one teaspoon at a time.

That was the point where I promised myself I wouldn't do this anymore. Where I tried to convince myself that drinking is poison and evil and just makes you ill. Where I whispered the words of that famous hangover lie to myself: ‘I am never drinking again.’

Low and behold, here I am yet again, in a blankety ball on the sofa, surrounded by last night's leftover pizza and an ice cold can of fizzy-pop.

But today (and last Thursday, and the Saturday before that), I don't even mind that I feel a bit broken and dirty on the inside. In fact, I'm taking it as a good thing that the local club is slowly becoming my second home, because it means that I no longer feel the pressure I used to feel about night's out.

I can be comfortable in a good social circle and actually enjoy myself, which is something that has taken me a long time to do.

Despite the grossness I feel in my face right now, I can smile through that pulsing headache at the bits of last night that I remember.

And I say Cheers! To all of the disgusting hangovers we've ever had, and Cheers! To many more...